


a thousand-degree fever disaster

by mongaygay



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Joohyuk Bingo, M/M, Meetcutes, jooheon is sick, mentioned sanche and dambi, minhyuk is stupid, showhokyun if u squint, side showho, vivid descriptions of a fever??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 04:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongaygay/pseuds/mongaygay
Summary: Lee Jooheon decides that the best thing to do when suffering from a thousand-degree fever is to head to the bar, where he picks up the cutest, most oblivious boy in the world. Disaster ensues.





	a thousand-degree fever disaster

**Author's Note:**

> For the Joohyuk Bingo prompt: Sick (2/3 of Joohyuk Bingo fics)

Jooheon is aching all over.

 

 _Oh, how did my life come to this?_ He can barely move, and he’s also pretty convinced that the world is spinning at a different frequency than usual because he’s fucking sure his head is being left behind. Damnit. His fingers have been crawling pathetically towards his phone for longer than he could currently be conscious of, and it honestly doesn’t feel like he’s moved at all. All he can feel is the crinkled, starchy bed sheets beneath his all-feeling palms and the vague sense of not being in contact with anything else that exists in the world with him.

 

When his hands finally touch the cold glass and metal, he wonders why he had ever wished to grab his phone in the first place. The coolness zips through him, fast and sharp, and he wonders why he’s even alive. The light from the screen is blinding, making him squint for so long he almost forgets what his intentions were. _All the perks of being down with a horrible, brain-melting fever_ , he supposes. His eyes finally focus on the new messages in his most recent chat.

  


**Joob’s Boobs**

Unread Messages (51)

* * *

 

( scroll to top ↕ )

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

ya i’m free i guess!!! when!!

 

**wonbooboob:**

no u put the condom on the other end of the shoebox, thrust me :D

*trust

wrong chat lmao

 

**hyungwon (real):**

7pm @ the Starship bar

let’s goooooooo

hehe

I have new clothes

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

wonho die

okay fine let’s goooooo !!!

wonho can u drive yet

 

**wonbooboob:**

how could i have learnt to drive overnight kihyun

I made u pick me up from the gym yesterday

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

ur good for Nothing

how can we have one person in the friend group

who already doesn’t drink n still need a designated driver

 

**hyungwon (real):**

jooheon can drive

i’m volunteering him bc he’s not here

 

**wonbooboob:**

yay

where is he

 

**You:**

wtf is going on

im here

 

**wonbooboob:**

speak of the devil

whats going on is that ur driving us

to and from the bar

 

**You:**

i’m so sicckkkkkk

i literally can’t see

my world is a blinding array of white lights

can someone else drive

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

why are u talking as if we’d still let u come??

when u “literally can’t see”??

just stay at home like a loser

loser!

 

**wonbooboob:**

boo

u whore

@ joobeonh

@ jooheun

 

**hyungwon (real):**

mayb we’ll videocall u from the bar

we’ll find a replacement joob

go get ready guys

i’ll drive

 

**You:**

What thf fuck??

U cant go out without me

Im fine

I can go

 

**hyungwon (real):**

Not to quote wonho but

Boo u whore

 

* * *

 

And with that, they disappear off of the chat. Jooheon has a sinking suspicion that they’ve created a group chat without him, which now that he thinks of it, might be less cruel than ignoring him in a group chat that includes his name. _How unreliable_ , he laments internally, dropping his phone beside him and barely processing how it bounces off the mattress and comes too close to his stinging face.

 

 _I’m fine_ , he reassures the no one around him, and he swears he said it out loud because his thoughts are so loud in his pounding brain that he can almost taste them. Coughing hard enough to make his lungs splatter over the floor, he rolls out of bed, feeling every fold and wrinkle of the bedsheets under his too-cold stomach. _I’m fine, I can go to the bar too_. He feels like the gentle air from the fan is a gust of wind threatening to blow his head off, and yet, still charges courageously to the closet a whole two steps away. The white spots in his vision turn black as his pathetic eyes adjust to the change in blood flow, from wherever pain is created to finally his brain, where it should have been going all along.

 

Whatever is inside the closet looks exactly like neon, formless lumps to Jooheon. He takes a deep, shaky breath before sacrificing his sensitive right hand to all the various textures waiting to skin him alive, rifling through the lumps to choose one for his melting, raw body. When he begins to put his leg into the thing that is only now beginning to take shape in his hand (it is either a pair of pants or a snake), he feels like he’s pure flesh and bones, like every atom and particle is piercing him right into his organs. He doesn’t know how he even manages to zip up his pants (so they _were_ pants!) and find the energy to go back in for a shirt.

 

Every now and then, he has to hunch over and curse the gods of old that created pain specifically so he can feel it cracking his skull open with the passing migraines. _I… can definitely… go to the bar…_ With his world famous stubbornness, he wills himself to finish dressing himself, and nods satisfiedly at the result as he stands in front of the mirror he has somehow appeared in front of.

 

**You:**

im coming ugh

  


**wonbooboob:**

i bet my right joob u won’t make it out of the door

 

**You:**

I’ll see you there,

Motherfucker hyung.  


* * *

 

He slips into the nearest, slightly soggy pair of shoes, holding onto his shoe shelf for dear life, and heads out. _Motherfucker hyung was wrong_ , he thinks, smiling gently and lovingly at the polished wood of the door frame, and then at the neighbour’s toddler watching him in intrigue with his thumb in his mouth, and calls a cab on his way down. Although the walls look narrower to him than they could possibly be, and he still feels like his feet are far from touching the zigzag pixels where the floor is, Jooheon decides that he is glad he has made it this far.

 

Not bad for a man with no talent.

 

The entire cab ride is a blur, and before he knows it his eyes are adjusting to the darkness and purple strobe lights of the Starship Bar. He walks, zombie-like, to the counter, to finally settle his jittery brain before he can find his friends. This was such a bad idea. He droops over the counter, feeling his gears very slowly clicking back into place, waiting until he no longer felt like hurling his entire stomach’s contents.

 

“What can I get for you?” He admires the bartender that took a while out of his day to talk to the lifeless husk parked at the counter, and forces himself to look up and smile. “Just water, please, for now.” It takes a while to recall that the bartender is indeed his friend and gym buddy, Shownu, and he wonders if his brain will ever recover from the damage this fever has done.

 

Right now, Wonho, Kihyun, and Hyungwon are probably having their best days of the week, finally taking a rest from all the lectures and reports and getting to relax together. Wonho’s probably waiting for Shownu to get off work because they have some kind of thing going, hitting up any other cute man who caught his eye. Kihyun is probably drinking, dancing enthusiastically to any beat that floated into his ear, sweat gathering and glinting off of his sharp nose so brightly that he could compete with the lights in the bar. Long, delicate Hyungwon is probably laughing at Kihyun, drinking water as if it’s the most delicious champagne he could buy. And none of them are missing Jooheon’s presence. Because they are turds.

 

He finally manages to lift his head, albeit very slowly and carefully, and drinks the water that Shownu must have put in front of him at some point.

 

“Hey, Nu, any sign of those 3 idiots?”

 

“Nope. Not since they came in. Why aren’t they with you?” Shownu tops off his water as though it was a drink, and Jooheon has to appreciate his courtesy. He nods and tips the drink in acceptance before taking a sip.

 

“Because they’re the worst, hyung,” He replies at last, slamming the drink down onto the table like it was a shot. Shownu laughs before moving to attend to someone else, leaving Jooheon to wonder how someone as despicable and unreliable as Wonho even snagged a man like him. (Probably because Wonho is also a sweet and dependable friend most of the time, which Jooheon would admit only if he was forced to.)

 

 _Fuck them_ , he thinks, imagining his friends having fun without him, hidden somewhere in the big bar, celebrating his absence. He scans around the bar quickly, and gives up once he doesn’t see any sign of them anywhere. He does see something better, though, a few seats away from him at the counter:

 

The _prettiest_ man in the world, sitting alone at the counter, stirring a cold drink as though it was coffee. The wondrous sight even breaks through Jooheon’s feverish daze, and he slides up to the man quickly, determined to talk to him. What better way to prove his competence than to pick up a cute man to spite his friends who didn’t believe in him. He makes sure to wipe his scheming, bitter smile off his face before sitting down beside the other man, thinking of possible conversation topics.

 

“Designated driver?” He asks coolly, and the man looks up in mild surprise, looking slightly confused before he looks down at his non-alcoholic drink and laughs awkwardly.

 

“Yes. Designated driver. Driving is a thing I definitely know how to do, and I do it frequently. For my friends, even.” Jooheon, being way too sleep-deprived and feverish to hear any nuances in his tone, believes him at face-value and nods. It’s probably for the better that he can’t take him home, anyway, since he is in no shape to bed anyone that night. He is also so thankful that the dim lighting in the bar makes it impossible for his face to be visible, because he is so, so sick and leaking all kinds of juices from all kinds of holes, and he is frankly, not fit for human viewing. He presses on, emboldened by this comforting fact, and continues to try to flirt.

 

He says, “You’re like, really pretty,” and knows, then, that the fever has messed with his brain indefinitely. _Come on, you have so much more game than this_. Pretty man looks up and laughs pleasantly, and then holds out a hand to him. “You’re pretty too. My name is Minhyuk.” Whatever he can make out of Minhyuk’s face in this horrible lighting is incredible, and he curses his immune system for letting him down just as fate was building him up to meet fucking modern Antinous.

 

As Minhyuk pays for his next round of pepsi, Jooheon sees a familiar card in his wallet and exclaims excitedly, to his own embarrassment. “Bowling club membership? No way!” Minhyuk pulls it out to show him, replying with matching levels of excitement, “No way! You too? I feel like I’ve never seen you!” According to the almost-identical membership cards they compared under the dim light of the counter, they both frequented Monsta Bowling Rink, and had somehow never met before now. Minhyuk has apparently unlocked the gold pass tier, something Jooheon’s been trying to do for ages, himself. He doesn’t know if he believes in destiny, but it seems like fate tossing Minhyuk right onto his lap specifically and only on the day when he cannot physically _feel_ his lap, even though they could have met any other day, any other way, is a sign that destiny does exist and that it hates him.

 

Still, better to be thankful.

 

“Noooo way. Any other hidden similarities we should find out more about?” Minhyuk grabs his hand excitedly, clasping his hands over Jooheon’s, and it’s familiar and new at the same time. Not to mention, it’s so, so welcome because the human warmth feels like a blessing to his skin. Jooheon racks his brain for any defining personality trait of his that could come as mildly interesting to the greek god whose attention he had stolen briefly, and is disappointed when what first comes out of his mouth is, “I have a fat chihuahua that hates me?” In one short sentence, he had killed his chances altogether. What sane man would fall for a guy whose defined by his unlikeability by dogs?

 

“I have a skinny poodle that loves me!” Clearly, Minhyuk is not deterred. He proceeds to tell him all about his gentle and loving Dambi, who he adamantly describes as the love of his life. She sounds like a real sweetheart, according to the other man’s descriptions of her gentle padding feet, the way she follows him around like he’s a treat on a stick, not taking her eyes off of him. Not that Jooheon is in any position to value-judge a dog, since his own family dog, Sanche, hates his guts and bullies him constantly. He doesn’t know where he finds it in himself to keep up with the conversation, teasing Minhyuk about being so cheesy about his dog and calling him a furry, when minutes ago he had been dying. It feels for a second there like he is not choking on his own snot and rocking a thousand-degree fever, and he is so thankful to the other man for that. “I realise I didn’t actually make you feel better about your hateful dog, sorry. Also it’s not a similarity between us so now I just seem like I’m bragging about being well loved.” Minhyuk says sheepishly, playfully slapping himself on the back of his neck.

 

Jooheon shakes his head and replies, “No, it’s okay, dude. I mean, I can see why?” He’s lucky the darkness makes it hard to see how his cheeks have flushed orangey-pink with shame, the barrier-like invisibility encouraging him to carry on with all the gusto he could muster. Minhyuk pushes him chidingly, still keeping his other hand resting on top of Jooheon’s, and even though they’re both sweating onto each other, neither of them want to let go. It feels comfortable talking to Minhyuk, like talking to an old friend you haven’t met in ages, like you’re filling him in on the things he missed instead of just spilling your life story to a cute stranger. Even with a splitting headache and sweaty, cold armpits, Jooheon is sure that there is no place he would rather be. _If only my friends could see me now_ , he thinks gloatingly, eyes once again sweeping the room for any signs of a group of unfaithful weasels or a strong smell of complete and utter betrayal. In the haze of his sickness, he still has time to realise that that is the first time he had thought of his garbage friends in a long time, and internally applauds Minhyuk for being so damn interesting.

 

Time passes quickly, and they have several more excited freak-out moments as they speak, and with every tiny little similarity they find, Jooheon thinks maybe his friends ditching him was for the best after all. They have the same taste in music, and headbang energetically in time to the beats in the bar, sipping pepsi as though it was coffee. The conversation goes everywhere, and Jooheon is constantly left in stitches, wondering how Minhyuk even said some of the things that came out of his mouth. Yeah, this is definitely for the best. Minhyuk is loud and bright with the combined energy of everybody Jooheon knew, but he's engaging and tiring, and even though Jooheon is already drained to the maximum, he finds himself unable to turn away from the blonde-haired beauty that didn't seem to want to release his much smaller hands.

 

Although of course, he knows this is probably it. He doesn't get to go home with Minhyuk after they leave the bar, or sleep in his probably-gigantic queen bed, or keep holding his hand into the dawn, because he is currently a snot monster, too hideous to be viewed in natural light. He doesn't really know how he's going to leave Minhyuk after this, and just take off as if it is the most natural thing to do. Not that he thinks Minhyuk will be unreasonable, just that... Jooheon doesn't really _not_ want to go home with him. At this point, Jooheon is even considering just wearing a mask to hide his face and letting the other do whatever he wants with his fever-stricken body, only being held back by the thought that Minhyuk probably isn’t kinky like that. He thinks he should just leave quickly to spare himself the disappointment, but his hands are still neatly tucked under Minhyuk's dinner-plate palms and he's not ready to let go of that source of comfort just yet.

 

 _Think, Jooheon, think. How are you going to get out of bedding Minhyuk while still making it clear you actually want to do that, keeping in mind you have been hinting towards it all night like a fucking dumbass?_ His brain is boggled from the question. As his eyes land on Minhyuk's pepsi, he remembers with a Eureka-moment flourish that Minhyuk had said he was the designated driver for his friends tonight. Bingo! He thanks the universe and the heavens, drawing a bemused look from Minhyuk by sighing out loud in relief. He squeezes Minhyuk's palm and gets a squeeze back and thinks this is the best life has ever gone. He could easily part with Minhyuk, get his number, or just move on knowing at least that he hadn’t ended the night on odd terms.

 

Later that night, as _Versace On The Floor_ plays in the background, and they bop solemnly to the song, Jooheon mourns the passing up of the opportunity to get to know Minhyuk some more. Actually, it isn’t really just that he even really wants to fuck him, anymore, but just the fact that after this night, they probably won't keep in contact, especially without the follow-up after meeting at the bar. There's no reason to keep chatting with him after the bar closes, anyway, since they are essentially still strangers, at the end of the day, and now Jooheon is wasting the time he has left with him by wallowing in misery. As he mourns, already pre-emptively missing the weight of a warm hand on his own, another man walks up to the counter towards Minhyuk.

 

"Min, you coming? We're leaving now." Jooheon turns away to let them chat, occupying himself with staring at the ridges on his glass, pouting unwittingly because this means that Minhyuk is leaving. To his surprise, he hears Minhyuk reply quickly, "No, it's fine. I'll take a cab, you drive the rest home first."

 

He takes a while to process this.

 

_Oh._

 

If his ears were working fine (and this is in doubt because of the head-melting fever), Minhyuk is not, in fact, the designated driver, and had also decided to take a cab home just so he could stay with Jooheon a bit longer. _Okay_. He can't help the smile that stretches across his face at this tiny victory, even as he thinks it the back of his mind that it probably isn’t as much of a triumph as it seems. Minhyuk smiles with him, and his hand returns to where it has been for the whole night, and, much to Jooheon's embarrassment, making his whole body shudder with cheesy tingles. Jooheon is too happy with this development to even address the fact that Minhyuk had fooled him.

 

The bar's almost empty now, and Jooheon knows that his friends had probably left by now, since when he looks for the bartender, Shownu's already taken off. Not that it hasn't already felt this way for the whole night, but it feels like it's just him and Minhyuk right now, and he wonders how someone like him ended up with someone like that, especially in the state that he's in. He also can't help but wonder if Minhyuk just had really bad vision of something, because he seems to look at this green, bloated, feverish, dripping monster in front of him and find him cute. The lighting in the bar isn’t _that_ bad.

 

To be honest, Jooheon kind of feels like Cinderella, watching the clock anxiously for 12am, the time just before the bar would close and he would have to emerge from the clouds and reveal his raggedy old self to the marble prince Minhyuk. Not to mention the brain-melting sickness made him feel like he was also similarly missing a shoe. He wonders how his real-life fairytale is going to turn out.

 

His phone buzzes quietly from his pocket, and he finally somewhat has the urge to check his messages.

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

how's the fever @ joob

 

**wonbooboob:**

we went home btw

it was boring without u

jk im at shownus place and we have a new friend

his name is changkyun

hope u don't know him bye

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

he's not replying

he's probably dead

 

**hyungwon (real):**

good

* * *

  


Jooheon puts his phone back into his pocket, thinking to himself that he probably did know a man named Changkyun, and prays that this night with Changkyun does not blossom into the three of them, Shownu, Wonho, and Changkyun, becoming a thing. God knows he already has a hard time remembering everyone in his friend group as it is. At this point, he decides that he is not going to go home with Minhyuk, and that he is completely fine with that. Sure, Minhyuk is the best man he's met in a literal year, and he feels like a ball of unexplored romantic potential, but Jooheon is sure that it can't be impossible to find ten other men just like him, and that it can't be impossible to leave him and walk the other way.

 

He's not so sure of that an hour later, at 12.15 a.m., when he's listening to Minhyuk tell a very compelling story about his intriguing friend Changkyun (the guy who had come over earlier and Wonho’s new _friend_ ) and his nude gaming tendencies, and following him out of the bar and into a cab. He can't even blame this very big mistake on his sickness because the truth is just that Minhyuk is so much prettier in the streetlights and bigger and better than any weak excuse Jooheon could give for being so goddamn useless and gay and stupid and for deciding to go home with him anyway. Thank god Minhyuk does not think to take a proper look at the completely wrapped up dumpling of a man he’s taking to his home, so he doesn't turn back to Jooheon until they are safely squeezed into the dark backseat of a cab and he once again can't see that Jooheon, in all his snotty and mucus-filled glory, looks ugly as a monstrosity all hells could conjure.

 

What the hell is he doing? He doesn't know. He doesn't know even when they sing annoyingly to the radio at the back of the poor cab driver's car, or when he rests his aching head on Minhyuk's bony shoulders and falls asleep. He doesn't know.

 

When he wakes up, Minhyuk is pulling him out of the cab and up a flight of stairs in what seems like a college dorm. Out of the atmosphere of the bar, Jooheon suddenly feels his fever catch up to him and expand, and he fears that he will puke on the man dragging him along behind him like a sack of flour. He wonders how Minhyuk doesn't hear the death-coughs behind him or the sounds of a runny nose echoing in the enclosed space of the stairwell they were in.

 

Somehow, he convinces himself that this means that Minhyuk would be stupid enough not to notice how sick he is. _Time to test the limits of my body_ , he decides when they reach Minhyuk's apartment, following Minhyuk in determinedly and closing the door behind them. Once again, the world is spinning without his poor, frizzled head, and he leans against the doorframe trying to get his eyes to stop bouncing around in his skull, minutes passing by before he opens them again. Minhyuk takes off his jacket quickly and unbuttons another button on his shirt before turning back to Jooheon, licking his lips in a cute attempt to be sexy.

 

His face changes once he sees Jooheon's; once he sees Jooheon's big snotty nose, chapped lips, and wet eyes, his face falls, and he rushes over.

 

"Did you... I don't mean to sound rude but did you always look like this?" His hands flit all over Jooheon's face, finally stopping to press against his burning forehead, and then withdrawing it immediately in a shock. _Is it that bad?_

 

"I don't usually." He touches his face indignantly, offended at the implication that this is just what he _looks_ like. On a _daily_ _basis_.

 

"I meant, have you looked like this the whole night? Am I blind?" Minhyuk's eyes scan his face as if it could give him answers, but Jooheon just lightly brushes him off, laughing at his panic even though it made his head hurt more. He is so glad he didn't bother to take his shoes off, turning back to the door and preparing to show himself out, when Minhyuk spins him back around with a level of force one shouldn't have been deploying on a sick person.

 

"No, Jooheon. We have no choice. I _have_ to take care of you. There is no other option." He says it with a determined expression on his face, nodding with every word like Jooheon's life depends on it. Jooheon laughs even harder at this, willing his head to just fall off his shoulders from the pain of it, "I mean, there are a lot of choices. I could take a cab home or call my friends or go to the doc-"

 

Minhyuk shushes him quickly, "Bub, bub, bub. No. Choice." He puffs his cheeks and pouts at Jooheon and Jooheon can only sigh and nod because he is too sick and gay to really say no, at this point. He surrenders his coat and shirt to Minhyuk and watches him run off to get him a change of clothes, praying he doesn't go close enough to the shirt to smell the night-old pit sweat. He has to old on to the coffee table near the couch to sit down safely, and as he finally plops onto the soft plush of the couch, he thinks that maybe Minhyuk is right. There is no way he could go home in this state, anyway.

 

After Minhyuk returns and clothes him in a bright yellow hoodie, he has to undergo the ordeal of being ungracefully lugged to the room like a sweaty, 200-pound bear, and basically dropped onto Minhyuk's queen bed. A pair of cute puppy boxers is dropped onto his face un-courteously, and Minhyuk reassures him that they are new, straight out of the packaging, before leaving the room to give him some privacy. Jooheon takes off his pants, only realising now that they are leather because he was stupid, and slips into the boxers that fit him quite snugly. He looks into the body length mirror next to Minhyuk's closet and decides that despite the feverish demonic look, the yellow hoodie and boxers combo make him look quite cute. Minhyuk has good taste. He plops onto the bed and makes an unintelligible sound to signal Minhyuk to come in.

 

"Aw, you're cute," Minhyuk says as he slips into the room, and Jooheon looks up to see that he is wearing something similar, a red and blue hoodie with shorts underneath. _You're cute_ , he thinks, only because his mouth isn't working enough to say it out loud, and he rolls over on the bed to give Minhyuk some space. Minhyuk climbs on cutely and passes Jooheon a hot bowl of something that smells vaguely like soup. Brushing back a strand of Jooheon's hair, he says matter-of-factly, "I don't know if you knew, but you took like 30 minutes to change, so I made you some healing soup." _What the fuck_ . _Having a fever really does mess up your sense of functioning_ , Jooheon thinks in shame, and he smiles quickly at Minhyuk, accepting the soup.

 

He thinks there's nothing much worse than crashing a sexy stranger's house and then being sick all over it, but he is not prepared at all for how bad Minhyuk's soup tastes. It started off somewhat tasteless, but like a Trojan horse, broke out its sourness and bitterness once it got a chance to settle deep into Jooheon's throat. He chokes on the taste that singes into his windpipe and it takes all his effort not to wheeze out the one sip that he had taken. Minhyuk's mouth falls open in shock and despair, "Is it that bad? I thought it was pretty good." Jooheon throws him back a smile that looks more like a grimace and replies, "It is so good."

 

Minhyuk hits him lightly on the head and takes away his soup, dumping the whole thing right into the trash can beside the bed like a fucking lunatic before telling him that he would throw it away later. Jooheon thinks that he would be much more horrified by all of this if he wasn't so sick, and makes a mental note to mention this life-changing sight to Kihyun whenever they next met. When Jooheon sputters and coughs again, the shock and worry return to Minhyuk's eyes and increases tenfold when he feels Jooheon's forehead sizzling like a hot pot. He panics quietly for a second before running out of the room reminding Jooheon to stay alive until he came back.

 

 _For a man who was so adamant to take care of me, he sure doesn't know what he's doing._ Jooheon stares up at the ceiling and re-evaluates his whole day, thinking about how much fun a disastrous day could possibly be. He thinks of the dragging himself to the bar, meeting a man, accidentally (not really) following him home, and then the really bad soup he had just had. He thinks about how Minhyuk had rushed off without telling him what he was doing, and assumes he had gone off to get him a wet towel. At least there's no way you can do that badly, he laughs to himself, rolling over again so he can keep an eye on the door, awaiting the pretty host's return.

 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. Minhyuk returns in a frenzy, without a wet towel in his hand but with a bottle of water and several pieces of tissue. Before Jooheon can stop him from making a very big mistake, he has already dumped the bottle onto the tissue and begun sticking wet pieces of tissue onto Jooheon’s face. “I couldn’t find a towel that was clean enough, so we’ll have to make do with these. I think it should be the same.” Jooheon doesn’t even want to correct him, so he gives in to the disaster night and leans back further into the pillow, “Of course you do.”

 

In a few short seconds, the tissues inevitably fall to pieces on his very wet and soggy forehead, and the sweat-infused water drips down into his eye and onto his collarbone. He’s resigned to his fate by now, but Minhyuk, still determined to take care of him, panics even harder, wiping his forehead with enough strength to take skin off as well. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He runs out the room and returns just as quickly with a shirt that he had soaked in water and wipes Jooheon clean, pulling his hoodie off over his head and giving him his own. Jooheon is too tired to truly appreciate Minhyuk’s shirtless body, lean and fit with a bit of a soft tummy, but he does note that he would like it if he was in a regular state of mind. When Jooheon is finally snug and comfortable in Minhyuk’s hoodie and covered up in a thousand blankets, Minhyuk plops down on the bed again.

 

At this point, Minhyuk is very sorry.

 

If Jooheon can’t tell by the many times Minhyuk says this fact out loud in a whiny and ashamed voice, he can tell by the way Minhyuk keeps smiling at him sheepishly and prods at his arm occasionally as though asking for forgiveness. He stays quiet for a while only to fuck with him before finally replying, “It’s fine, Minhyuk. There was no way this night could have gone any better.”

 

“It’s not fine! You didn’t get a proper one-night-stand, your friends abandoned you, and you are stuck with me and my horrible nurturing skills. And you look like this, sorry. You’re literally pathetic right now.” Jooheon gasps in indignance, “I look like _what_? You are so lucky I literally cannot get up and fight you right now.” Minhyuk laughs, ducking Jooheon’s angry flailing hands, and climbs onto the bed next to him. “See, you’re pathetic. You can’t defeat me.” He wriggles away from Jooheon’s grasp once again and even sneaks in a quick kick to Jooheon’s calf, like a toddler, and Jooheon can’t physically do a thing about it.

 

“Minhyuk, this is _not_ an apology!” He whines, sticking out his bottom lip as far as it will go and also using this opportunity to poke Minhyuk in his exposed stomach as revenge. Minhyuk barely reacts to the poke, because he is apparently doubly powerful with his immunity to tickling, but does soften at Jooheon’s tantrum. “Okay,” He says, stretching out his words, “I will make it up to you!” Oh no, Jooheon thinks, that doesn’t sound super fun.

 

He thinks of the bad soup, the “wet tissue”, and wonders what other ways Minhyuk could possibly try to take care of him, shuddering involuntarily at the thought. Cold, tissue-bits covered hands creep up his sides and a big head rests on to his head, only rising slightly when Minhyuk looks up and says, as though it’s the best idea in the world, “I’m going to cuddle you so good it’s going to be better than sex!”

 

Jooheon definitely does _not_ think it’s the best idea, and in fact does not think it is a good idea at all, but Minhyuk has already lodged himself through Jooheon’s arm and pressed his face into his chest, so he supposes he can’t really say no. Especially since Minhyuk is so eager to help, despite his many, many, _many_ failures. He sighs in resignation, wraps his arm around Minhyuk’s bony shoulders, and throws a nearby blanket over them both. Besides, Minhyuk’s taste in comfort items is amazing; the blanket is soft and plush enough to put just about anyone to sleep and his hoodies are A Plus. The whole room seems to be calibrated to be the right leisure space and Jooheon thinks for a second that this room is what he wants his whole life to feel like. The next thought is about how he is so relieved that his nose isn’t functioning enough to allow him to smell the soup that had recently been discarded next to them.

 

 _This is so uncomfortable, though_ . Minhyuk’s shoulder is stabbing into his collarbone and his hands are so cold now, after handling all the wet tissue, and they’re sending seismic waves of discomfort through Jooheon’s fever-torn body. He tries to shift under Minhyuk’s weight in an attempt to get more comfortable before he realises that Minhyuk is not actually even awake anymore. The open eyes and constant replying to whatever he said had had him fooled, but Minhyuk’s snoring and unmoving body tells a different kind of story. _Great_. He huffs a deep breath and stretches as far as he can to reach his phone.

 

**wonbooboob:**

joob r u still asleep.. Tf

can i borrow ur laptop soon mine died

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

Sleep well tonight!!!

Don’t come to school tomorrow! U need a break :-)

I neex 3$310 _#1//\\\\....._

* * *

 

His phone falls on his face as his grasp on it slips. His eyes are already closed before he realises he’s sleepy. _Must be the fever_ , he thinks to himself before he doesn’t think anything at all.

 

Kihyun hugs him tightly despite his protests, and he can hear a faint sound of laughter at the back: Minhyuk’s laughter. It’s raspy and loud and sometimes goes so high-pitched Jooheon wants to scream and cover his ears. Then, he realises that it isn’t Minhyuk’s laughter and really an angry and impossibly fat Sanche instead, charging at him and barking at a thousand decibels, because he hates Jooheon so much. Oh how he longed for Minhyuk’s death-defying shriek of a laugh over this. How pitiful, to die at the hands of the family dog, crushed under the pain of a…

  
_Fever? What the fuck?_

 

Jooheon wakes up with a jolt, only to see Minhyuk’s face hovering just inches away from his.

 

“Oh my fucking shit, fuck,” He shouts in shock, hands flying instinctively to protect himself. Minhyuk laughs and launches himself into Jooheon’s arms again, and Jooheon has a theory that he had only just gotten off him, as his hands seem to be just recovering from being lain on all night. He pulls Minhyuk in deeper, resting his chin on the man’s head, breathing in the scent of strawberry and bar soap.

 

“You awake?” Minhyuk asks, digging his face into Jooheon’s chest. Jooheon laughs and replies, “Now I am. Do you know how to interact with humans, Minhyuk?” Minhyuk swats him lightly and rolls off of him, sticking his tongue out. “I don’t, clearly.”

 

Jooheon realises then that, other than the ache in his arms from someone sleeping on top of them for the whole night, he feels okay. A good night’s sleep apparently had done him some good, even if the whole night had been quite stressful. Grateful, he presses his lips to Minhyuk’s head, earning himself a satisfied giggle, quite unlike the nightmare screeches from the dream. He reaches for his phone again to brag to his friends at last about the… amazing (liar) night he had, but he realises it is nowhere in sight.

 

“Are you looking for your phone? Here.” Minhyuk passes him his suspiciously shiny and clean looking phone, and says, when he sees Jooheon eyeing it strangely, “You vomited all over that thing last night, in case you forgot.” _Oh_. Jooheon accepts the phone, a blush running all over his cheeks, and has to turn away before he full on flushes in front of the handsome man who’s night he had definitely ruined. “Also, I put my number in it because you don’t have a lock on it, for some weird reason. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

 _Does_ he mind? Minhyuk is an eclectic, fun-loving man who was unobservant enough to not notice that Jooheon was sick until he had already brought him into his home, and loving enough to spend the whole night taking care of him. All that for an essential stranger who had nothing in return except for death-wheezes and sniffles. Not to mention, he’s already the best friend Jooheon has, and Jooheon is completely sure that he would miss him once he walked out the door. He supposes he doesn’t mind, and he shrugs back at Minhyuk to signal that sentiment.

 

Minhyuk squeals and throws himself onto him, “And we should totally do this again. Is Thursday okay?” He’s already opening up his calendar app and keying in the date, so Jooheon has a vague idea that he doesn’t really have a choice in this matter. He supposes he owes it to him after spreading plague and disease all over his house with no warning, and it’s not really the worst, as far as punishments go, to be forced to let Minhyuk make all the decisions. He teases back, “You sure you wanna do this again? Because I’ll probably be recovered by then and I don’t know where else I can find you a sick dude.” Minhyuk’s expression doesn’t change, and Jooheon has to wonder whether he heard him at all, when Minhyuk says, “I’ll see you on Thursday then! Go home and recover!”

 

With that, he begins shoving: Jooheon’s clothes into a tote bag that said (Insert something funny in a suburban white person way or a gamer way), and Jooheon out of the open door. Jooheon barely has any time to thank him before he’s been kicked out by Minhyuk, who presses a quick peck to his cheeks before slamming the door.

 

“See you on Thursday!” Jooheon hears Minhyuk bellow from inside, as he stands there frozen, a deep pink flush spreading all the way to his ears. _Thursday… Okay…_ It takes him two minutes to gather his thoughts, and he only leaves when Minhyuk’s face appears at the window and gives him a questioning look.

 

 _Guess I’m not fully recovered_ , he thinks, smiling stupidly back at Minhyuk until he gets waved away again. He doesn’t even spare a thought for how Minhyuk hadn’t even let him brush his teeth, too preoccupied by the whole fiasco.

 

After all that, he finally heads home to process this whole crazy night and figure out when Thursday is.

 

**You:**

the fever is gone

and im back

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

hello good morning!!!

how was ur night

 

**You:**

Spectacular

wonho owes me his right joob

 

**wonbooboob:**

wtf u made it out the door??

 

**You:**

i made it all the way to the BAR

motherfucker

hyung

 

**wonbooboob:**

we didnt see any sleep deprived sunken faced weirdo

in sweatpants

and a hoodie

 

**You:**

And i didnt see an ugly trio of 3

but u guys were there right

Ugh

I was dressed as a person last night as well

 

**hyungwon (real):**

i love u so much

ur the man jooheon

what happened last night

 

**You:**

i met the most handsome man in the World

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

and what did wonho say to u

 

**You:**

oh my god

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

sorry that was bad

i meant

what did the doctor say about fever-induced hallucinations

  


**You:**

u know what im just gna pretend u didn’t say that

i have a date with him on thursday

 

**wonbooboob:**

u can have my left joob too

so cool

 

**yooyoo the fool:**

Good luck

Thursday is the day after tomorrow :)

 

**You:**

Fuck :)

* * *

 

 _Fuck_ . He checks his calendar to call Kihyun out for fucking with him only to discover, to his despair, that Kihyun was not, in fact, fucking with him. It is definitely and inarguably Tuesday, which means that he only has two days to get ready to present himself as a lovable human ready for a romantic date. _Why_ did it take him so long to put his head on straight? Because he had been suffering from a brain-frying, body-burning fever and didn’t have the ability to process anything? He stares at the shiny reflection of his newly-cleaned phone that he had apparently puked on just last night. _Yeah, that checks out._

 

Fevers are… terrible, at best, and Jooheon never really knows how he ever lives past them. They are gut-wrenchingly horrible, characterized by the endless chasm and nothingness lying suspended between freezing cold and scalding hot and the feeling of his raw flesh sticking inside-out of his body. He has to say he is thankful for how Minhyuk distracted him from all of that, making the already terrible night into something so hilariously torturous he couldn’t even blame it on the fever.

 

And Minhyuk is, just, so cute.

 

-

 

The day after next, Jooheon wakes up to the sound of Right Here Waiting playing on his phone because apparently that was the song Minhyuk had replaced his very nice alarm clock music with. It is eight in the a.m. and Jooheon is so ready for a perfect date do-over. This time he can actually see his closet and is also (thank goodness) a person, and not a goo-leaking, human-imitating loser alien wearing leather pants.

 

He and Minhyuk had been texting, and over the short period of one day, he had had time to confirm what he already knew: that Minhyuk is a lovable person and Jooheon is so excited to see him again. Minhyuk talks so much that Jooheon can barely keep up when the conversation has already shifted, but he also listens, sometimes too much, and it’s a little intimidating. Sometimes when Jooheon begins talking, he sees Minhyuk type, then stop, and nothing. It took him only a while to realise that Minhyuk was listening. Minhyuk was sweet like that.

 

He pulls on another pair of leather pants because he can’t learn (but they had practically been calling out to him), and a short-sleeved button-down with pink bees all over the print. Cute. His phone has stopped buzzing non-stop with double, triple, quadruple texts from Minhyuk, and he assumes Minhyuk is also getting ready, probably putting on something lovely and loose and just very slightly big because he is pretty, and also pretty strategic, or he has to be because he can’t always be stealing Jooheon’s heart by accident. Jooheon tucks the shirt slightly into his pants, letting it puff slightly around him because he has no sense of changing up his style. It’s fine. The puff of the shirt, along with the tightness of the pants, makes his waist look extra tight anyway, so that’s hopefully a treat for Minhyuk.

 

Earphones, wallet, water bottle, chapstick, what else? He remembers to grab his phone only a second before rushing out the door after racking his brain, searching anxiously through his mental checklist. His butt is sweating, heavily. He doesn’t think he’s nervous but apparently his body does, and like a dick, is acting out, through his moist buttcheeks apparently. Finally, he’s leaving, only being impeded by his earphones catching on the doorknob for a while, and heading out for the date of his life.

 

This is so great. God is good. He believes in destiny and second chances after all.

 

He thinks about Minhyuk and how he has the face of an ancient Roman lover and the personality of a talk show host, and how amongst all the functioning people in the whole bar, he had chosen Jooheon, or accepted Jooheon. Jooheon is determined to prove to him that it was all worth it, and is determined to have the best date of his life that day.

 

He’s already smiling when his phone begins to ring with a ringtone Minhyuk had definitely specified to his number. “I’m at a payphone... trying to call home... All of my change I’ve spent… on you… Where have the times go-” The grating lyrics are cut off by Jooheon accepting the call and putting the phone to his ear. _Guess he just can’t wait to see me_ , he thinks, stopping at the door for a while to speak to Minhyuk

 

“Hi Minhyuk, what do you want?” He says in a pretend-annoyed voice, pouting as if Minhyuk could see it. His other hand that’s not holding his phone twirls with the earphones hanging near his waist and he has to question when he had become a flirting middle school girl from Dork Diaries.

 

“Hi Jooheon…” Minhyuk replies, and he sounds _pathetic_ . His voice had cracked ten times in just that sentence alone, and even somehow after he had finished speaking. Oh no. “I’m not sure I can come for the date… I might have caught your sickness…” Oh no. _Am I in a time loop?_ Jooheon wonders. Another date ruined by the God of Plague, whoever the fuck that is. He immediately begins pulling all the things he had packed into his bag out and heads back in to change.

 

Everything in his bag is replaced by towels, medicine, a thermometer, and tissues, and he changes into a hoodie and shorts.

 

He calls Minhyuk back afterwards, and says,  “I bet I’m a better caretaker than you,” which is just the meaner way of saying that he would take care of him, and also not a fact since you shouldn’t be insulting a sick man when he’s the most vulnerable, and he had just done that. All that mattered, though, is that they really are doing this all over again.

 

He thinks of the hilariously messy, impromptu night they had had before and says to himself, as he walks out the door, “Here we go again.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed and IF U KNOW WHAT BREED DAMBI IS PLEASE HELP ME OUT !! 
> 
> as always pls leave kudos and comments and u can always talk to me on twt @mongaygay
> 
> Check out pt. 1/3 of my Joohyuk Bingo contributions here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497293


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